You stare into the mirror and smooth out your large flannel. You comb and coil your greasy hair a few more times behind your ears. Your brown eyes filled with apprehension stare back at you. This was it. This was going to be your first real date, just you and her, with an eighteen-year-old. That was four years your senior.
She is the tutor in your pre-algebra concepts class. She's blonde, busty, and beautiful with blue eyes that droop slightly giving her a soft look and shapely lips that could certainly be multiuseful. She checked out okay on your list.
You would call her over to help you even on problems you knew how to do just so she would lean over on your desk and you could glance down her shirt or you could watch her sway her hips as she walked away.
You could tell she had a thing for you, too, the way her hand would linger extra long on your shoulder when she would help you simplify fractions.
Sure, you'd kind of dated other girls before, but it wasn't an actual date like this.
There was the awkward kiss with Maureen Jacobs at Gordo's Burgers and Malts when your buddies dared you to. She didn't seem to mind too much.
And then there was that really heated make-out with Lisa Franks behind that set of bleachers Darry recommended to you.
"This is where many firsts happened for me, if you know what I mean," Darry had winked at you and smiled knowingly at you. Darry had always been a stud himself. Getting girls had never been a problem for him. You knew that for a fact. The wall that separated your rooms were thin enough.
That night with Lisa behind the bleachers during a football practice, you might've had a cotton white trophy and the deflowering of both of you to take home with you. That is, had you not tried putting your hand in her panties so soon. She slapped you, and then retracted her hand from your face, remembering you were Soda Curtis, every girl's dream. She'd said she would be ready when she was ready. It was unfortunate, too; she was an awful pretty brunette. But you were thirteen at that time. A year younger than you are now. You didn't know any better.
You step out into the yard and make your way to Darry's t-bird truck. Being fourteen never stopped you from manning the driver's seat. The chirping of the crickets in the mid-August night makes you nervous as ever. You've never been with a girl at her house alone. You hop into the driver's seat and key the ignition hoping it won't wake your parents.
As you think of all the things an eighteen-year-old can do with you that can take place tonight, your anxiety starts to fade into excitement.
If you like where I'm going with this, I'll continue. What do you think?